Scourge of the Goa'uld
by Ice-Tea-1983
Summary: On Second Lieutenant Ranma's first Offworld mission, something goes monumentally wrong. Is the universe prepared for the consequences? Stargate SG1 crossover, with a few extra special appearances.
1. Prologue Murphy's Law in Action

**Posted**: Wednesday 26 November 2008

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**Disclaimer**; This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.

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**Scourge of the Goa'uld - Prologue - Murphy's Law in Action**

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It truly was a marvellous sight.

The shimmering waters bounced light around across the concrete walls.

The gentle hum of power sent tingles down his spine.

The warm, glowing red lights set around the ring of water at even intervals were quite fetching.

The beauty of this sight was marred by the team of heavily armed soldiers standing in front of it on a grilled ramp, ready to step through - which they did.

Ripples played across the surface of the vertical pool of water as each member of the team went through. Not four seconds after the last one was through, the water disappeared as though it was a blue fireball dying out in the exact centre of the Ring.

Ranma turned around and went back to his seat in the Briefing Room, irritated at the unnecessary tightness of his dress-blue uniform as he sat down.

This was his very first Briefing after he graduated from the USAFA, as his shiny new second lieutenant bar attested to ... and the older men already sitting around the table in waiting for the Commanding Officer didn't seem very keen to be working with a rookie fresh from the Academy, regardless of how impressive his files were.

Ranma wasn't exactly wet behind the ears where hostile confrontation was concerned, but his head was still spinning from the information he'd been given the day before when he first arrived at Cheyenne Mountain

Humans weren't alone in the universe.

There existed several alien races out there, and Earth was engaged in a secret war against a race of parasitic beings called the Goa'uld, who would burrow their way into someone's neck, wrap around the upper spine of its host and extend tendrils into the host brain to gain full control over them. He had seen the footage of one such incident taking place in the Stargate Command - a veteran called Kowalski had been the unfortunate victim, and had been killed after an operation that _seemingly_ removed the parasite, but only turned out to have been the dead husk.

That particular footage made Ranma realise that if he was expected to step through that thing, he was not going to be near it when it started or disengaged - he might lose something vital.

On base there was an _alien_ being of a race of servants to the Goa'uld, called the Jaffa.

Speaking of which, accompanying the bald, overweight General was the flag team of the SGC - the SG1, where the Jaffa was stationed. Ranma had yet to learn their names - heck, he barely remembered the General's name - but his general shape made it easier to recall ... he was shaped almost like a ham turned upright, he was a ham man - Hammond. Not that he'd ever share this method of recalling the man's name ...

Ranma was the first to rise to his feet and into a firm stance of attention, a feat he completed before the more experienced men had even realised who had entered the room.

"At ease," General Hammond commanded in his thick Texas drawl as the last man in the room was at attention. "Have a seat, gentlemen - SG1 will brief you on your next mission ... or your first, as is the case with young Lieutenant Saotome."

"General Hammond, I believe introductions are in order," interrupted the large, black man with a gold tattoo on his forehead.

"Fair enough," agreed the General, and indicated each of the SG1, Ranma already having introduced himself to the team he had been assigned. "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"That's with two L's ... there's another O'Neil and he has no sense of humour," added the man. Ranma could sense not only great sadness about the weatherworn man, but also experience in the darker of the military arts - this man was a warrior in the truest meaning of the word. From the man's semi-relaxed stance, and attempted wit, Ranma could only conclude he hid his true intelligence and feelings behind a mask of idiocy, bravado and humour.

"Next is Captain Samantha Carter," continued Hammond, ignoring O'Neill's comment.

"I read your thesis on worm-holes, Captain," commented Ranma lightly. "A bit over my head, but my physics tutor seemed to think you could walk on water."

"I'm glad," Captain Carter accepted gratefully. "I just don't think I'll try that trick for a while."

"True, it's very complicated at first," agreed Ranma in a tone that could be conceived as joking.

"I believe you've been told about Dr Daniel Jackson, the man who deciphered the glyphs on the cover stone found over the Stargate at the Giza dig," continued Hammond.

"Hi," greeted Dr Jackson pleasantly, if in a somewhat bashful manner.

"And finally, we have Teal'c, of Chulak," finished General Hammond.

"It is a pleasure to meet a fellow _warrior_," greeted the muscular man with a reverent bow of his head, then extended his hand, which Ranma reluctantly accepted, only to find the hand clasping his forearm instead of the hand. "Tek'ma'tek Lieutenant Saotome."

"Huh?" interrupted O'Neill quizzically to Dr Jackson.

"Er, it's a form of greeting between friends," the bespectacled man translated. "Teal'c, have you met Lieutenant Saotome before?"

"Indeed I have not," denied Teal'c stoically. "I happened upon him in the gym last night, and witnessed his prowess as a warrior. His skills will be a great asset to the service of this world - And any fellow defender of the Tau'ri is a friend of mine."

"That wasn't all that impressive," Ranma commented sheepishly and rubbed the stubble at the base of his neck, where his pigtail once rested. "It was just a few lesser kata to wind down before going to bed ..."

"Indeed," agreed Teal'c. "Regardless of your statement, the skills you displayed were impressive - not many of Apophis' forces will be a match to you if your skills extend to the handling of a weapon as well as your body."

"That's high praise, lieutenant," commented O'Neill, then plastered a mock superior expression on his face. "He hasn't said that about my skills in a few hours, though ..."

"Indeed," agreed the Jaffa with a humouring smirk.

"So what is your training?" questioned Major Styles, Ranma superior on the team.

"In what way?" Ranma asked for clarification.

"Which style do you practice, and what level are you?" the Major acquiesced.

"Anything Goes, it bases its foundation on the best of all Martial Arts forms, while weeding out the flaws," smirked Ranma. "And after having practiced and learned for most of my life, there is no level high enough to recognise my skills - the closest would be Grand Master ... but I never bothered to ask for the title from the current holder."

There was disbelieving scoffs from the rest of Ranma's team, but the Jaffa inclined his head in recognition of what significance Ranma's claim had. "Perhaps some time in the future, we may practice our skills against each other." He added politely.

"Sounds like fun," agreed Ranma.

"Now on with the briefing - Dr Jackson," interjected General Hammond.

"Thanks," said Jackson and marched to one end of the table, opposite from the General's seat, and the lights dimmed some while the others sat down. "P1-269 is an uninhabited planet, as near as we can tell. The MALP picked up on what seem to be heavily decayed ruins some miles away from the Stargate, but showed no sign of activity or heat. And the road leading to the gate has not been used by anyone for centuries, judging by the overgrowth of weeds and other flora."

"What kind of planet are we talkin' about here?" questioned Captain Mockry, raking his hand across his balding head.

"Like most planets we've made contact with, this planet has a breathable atmosphere," Jackson clarified, as though the Captain was slow-witted - everyone else seemed to have picked up on the flora comment, and as some of it had been named as weeds, it was safe to say the vegetation was Earth-like, which usually meant it was suitable for humans.

As though to clarify this further, the projector lit up and displayed a landscape shot of nearly uninterrupted green, with some dark spots marked by a red square.

"The highlighted area shows where the ruins are," continued Jackson. "Unfortunately, we haven't been able to make the MALP travel that far, due to certain magnetic disturbances in the ionosphere. The MALP refused to travel more than a hundred metres from the gate because of this, and the batteries seem to drain faster than normal - which means you might need to ... er ... give it a push back to Earth when you return."

"That thing weighs a ton!" erupted Dr Lankin, a fresh archaeologist assigned to Ranma's team just days before him, and having already been off-world on a brief visit to some other ruins.

"Only about half that," corrected Captain Carter. "And it'll be on wheels, so it won't feel as heavy."

"I say we let the rookie handle it," smirked Captain Mockry.

"No problem," countered Ranma cheerfully. "Should I carry it if the terrain is too rocky?"

Ranma's light tone was taken for sarcasm, and the briefing moved on.

"The origin of the ruins is a mystery," continued Dr Jackson. The image zoomed in on the red square, showing what looked like Mayan architecture gone to waste. "While the architecture appears to be of Earth origin, there are elements we can't really account for such as the carvings on the walls that seem to contain some sort of runic quality, while not having coherent meaning as of present.

"What we want you to do is to go and take some pictures and make some kind of map of where we might find something of historical interest in the future."

"Thank you Dr Jackson," said General. "Your mission is scheduled for tomorrow and oh-eight-hundred."

"General, sir," Ranma interrupted quickly before they were dismissed. "Permission to speak."

"Go ahead, son," Hammond granted.

"Will I be permitted to bring personal equipment?"

"Each team member will bring standard equipment," General Hammond announced. "But, you may bring anything in addition if you can carry it. Be warned that in the event of an emergency, standard gear is prioritised, and anything else will be abandoned - do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Ranma grinned.

"Just don't bite off more than you can chew," added O'Neill.

"Never do, sir," quipped Ranma.

* * *

"Alright, we've only got a day to take pictures, draw maps and return for our daily report," announced Major Styles as soon as every last member of the team was through. This Stargate team had yet to be officially numbered due to the large influx of manpower over the past months. They had been told they would most likely be numbered as SG-18 by the time the bureaucrats had finished taking account of everything. "Let's spread out! Saotome, you take the North side, Mockry, West, Lankin, South - we meet back here at the entrance in two hours ... keep radio contact!"

It had been a nearly three hour march to the ruins of a small city of mysterious origin, and there being excellent weather had not helped the conditions - especially not as they all wore dark green battle-dress uniforms and carried over sixty pounds of equipment.

Ranma hadn't been so strained by this, as it was no worse than what he had been through for most of his life on the road - he instead fished out the digital video camera and readied it for long play before taking out a pad and pen to draw up the structure outlines as one would on a map as he inspected the crumbled constructions around him.

There were a few illustrations around doorways or windows, and Ranma dutifully got a steady shot of them with his camera before moving on.

At the end of the street stood what looked almost like a small temple, similar to a gazebo made out of stone, and over time having been covered in moss and vines.

There was only one thing not completely covered, and that was a sharp corner of some design on the ground, filled with some sort of crystal.

Curious, Ranma set down his bag, mounted the camera in a cassette on an inside pillar, and started the recording as he examined the crystal.

"Guys, I found something ... strange," he announced over the radio frequency they had been assigned.

"Duly noted, Lieutenant," replied Major Styles tersely. "Mark it for later, and we'll get back to it after we're all done."

Sighing at being disregarded so easily, Ranma followed instruction, and found a length of red rope, which he tied around one of the outside pillars of the temple - marking the building for the others' benefit.

Back inside, Ranma was curious - a pest most humans are cursed with. What was hidden under the layers of dust, dirt and growth?

Digging away near the crystal with his fingers, Ranma was rewarded by uncovering more crystal.

Repeating his previous action, Ranma slowly and surely started uncovering more of the crystal design that had been hidden by centuries or millennia of flourishing foliage and a lack of upkeep.

Within an hour, a multitude of intersecting lines and patterns had unfolded before Ranma, all in clear crystal.

For some reason, Ranma was glad he'd started the camera already, because it would be a kick to watch the entire thing emerge again.

Stepping back to once more admire his work, Ranma's foot caught his backpack, and he was reminded of the time.

It was almost time to return to camp.

Looking around, Ranma found his camera on the opposing pillar, directly on the other side of the design.

Picking up his stuff, Ranma had marched no more than a few steps across the large design before he was enveloped in a bright light, and disappeared.

Sitting peacefully on its perch, the camera's red light kept shining, signifying that it was still recording.

* * *

As time ran out, Major Styles was less than impressed with Lieutenant Saotome's punctuality.

Sure, he had been in the Embarkation Room before them, but the lad had bugged him just as he entered a building and thus bashed his head in the low doorway in surprise.

"Should we go get him, sir?" questioned Captain Mockry after five minutes.

"Lieutenant Saotome," Major Styles called over the radio. "It's past your curfew!"

There was no response.

"Lieutenant Saotome, if you're not in _serious_ trouble, answer me this moment!"

Still nothing.

"Okay, let's go look for him - and _God_ _help_ _him_ if he's not dying!" the Major swore, and cocked his side arm for effect.

Tracing Ranma's route hadn't been all that difficult, as there were very few streets, and the red rope tied around a pillar on the temple at the end of the street made it very clear where he'd gone to.

It was actually quite interesting, as Dr Lankin remarked, that this temple was the only structure that hadn't collapsed at all over the countless years since the last visitor.

Inside, the group found the design on the ground, but no signs of their missing officer.

"What's that light?" the Captain pointed out, indicating the indentation in the nearest pillar.

"It's Lieutenant Saotome's video camera," observed Dr Lankin.

"Okay, let's see what he left behind for us ... maybe it'll show where he went and why he isn't responding," decided Major Styles.

The three watched the video display of the small recording device, and having been lucky with their rewinding, hit the time when Ranma finished uncovering the design behind them - and stepped onto it with his backpack only to seemingly disintegrate in a flash of light.

"Out!" Major Styles barked. "No one goes back inside this place! Mockry, return to the gate, double time, and inform SGC about our situation - have them send as many Science geeks as possible to find out what happened to my officer!"


	2. Chapter 1 Discoveries

**Posted:** Sunday 30 August 2009

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**Disclaimer:** This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.

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_**Scourge of the Goa'uld - Chapter One – Discoveries**_

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Walking around a different set of ruins than he had initially arrived in, Ranma concluded that he had been sent somewhere other than where his team was.

He wasn't stupid, this set of ruins was much larger than the first ones – the temple he had been unearthing the design in was not the same, and in the distance, in the middle of the town square stood a Stargate, unlike the first place he'd visited.

"Lieutenant Saotome calling Major Styles, come in ... over," Ranma spoke into his radio.

The only sound that greeted him was the static of a chatter-free frequency and the wind sweeping the streets around him.

"Saotome calling Major Styles, come in!" Ranma attempted again.

Nothing.

"Mockry, Lankin, Styles, where the Hell are you? Answer me, damn it!"

Almost throwing the radio away in frustration, Ranma spotted an intact, throne-like stone chair through the crumbled ruins of a wall, and decided to sit down and think for a while – collect his thoughts and rope in his rising temper, as it were.

Scaling the low pile of rubble that had once been the exterior wall, Ranma dropped his backpack and gun, then slumped down in the stone chair with a groan of resignation at his situation.

He had uncovered the strange design in the floor of the temple-like construct – he had crossed the design to gather the camera he had set to record the uncovering - there was a flash of light that temporarily blinded him – and suddenly he found himself standing in a much larger temple, with large statues of noble werewolf-like men draped in togas or kilts, carrying swords, spears or staves. One, the one he'd arrived facing, had what looked like falcon's claws attached to his hands, exaggerated though they may have been in size compared to the ones he was familiar with.

The statues must have been of important historical figures for the alien race that had built these towns. Recalling their appearance, Ranma thought they might have been the origin of the werewolf myth back on Earth ... they looked rather feral, but also intelligent and noble – the muzzle, fur, clawed fingers and toes, and the elongated, raised heel made them look less human than any of the aliens Ranma had been informed of.

He could not get in touch with his team through the radio, which meant he was either long enough away that the planet's atmosphere would break up the signal, or they were too far away in general to receive the signal with the relatively weak transmitters they had.

And to top it all off, his stone chair was whining ... _whining?_

Ranma jumped out of the chair immediately – or at least tried – some sort of energy had gotten a hold of him, and was keeping him glued to the chair even as an orb, like a large metal marble, rose from the ground and started scanning him like a bar-code gun, lines of light sweeping up and down his body for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, the orb fell back into the ground, which had opened up for it, and the floor closed again.

Ranma was allowed to get back up, as evident by the cessation of the energy holding him in place. He did not hesitate in doing so – and warily eyed the chair while checking himself for extra appendages or injuries – who knew what that thing had done to him ...

Another high pitched whine started building, and Ranma picked up his gun as a reflex of his years of training in the USAFA, ready to deal with any attacker and ready to take cover should there be some sort of explosive involved.

The seat of the chair opened up much in the same way a section of the floor had for the metal marble, and rising from the chair was a tiny ball of bright white light.

The light remained suspended in the air for several moments before zipping at Ranma and stopping just in front of his nose – the action had been so fast that even Ranma's finely hones Martial Arts reflexes and senses hadn't caught it until the thing was halfway there.

For some reason, as Ranma fell into a defensive stance, the light seemed curious, and bobbed in place as it examined him.

Though no words were spoken, or sounds made for that matter, Ranma got the feeling it wondered why he had responded to its greeting in the way he had.

"You shouldn't go so close to people without asking permission first," Ranma found himself explaining, feeling rather silly for speaking to what might have passed for a fairy, though he could see no body in the light to indicate it had a humanoid body.

The light flickered for a very brief moment. "**_I apologise._**"

"That's okay, you didn't mean any harm," Ranma responded automatically. "What?"

"**_I apologise, it is not among my functions as an assistant to startle my bonded,_"** The light made a small loop in the air in front of him.

"What do you mean we've bonded?" demanded Ranma. "I don't recall having agreed to get an assistant!"

The light flickered once more, only this time it magnified its light and returned to normal. "**_Your agreement to accepting an assistant was to sit down in the Assignment Chair, it is written on the wall around the entrance to this room._**"

"Oh, great!" Ranma exclaimed. "I need to sit down, and the one place that looks good enough happens to be in an Assistant Assignment Auditorium! _And how do I know what it's called_?"

This time, the thing made a noise, but it only sounded like a tiny bell chiming. "**_That would be your neural implant subconsciously accepting information on the subject I'm referring to._**"

"Subconscious implanted information, sent by you?" Ranma confirmed. "Can you hear my thoughts as well?"

"**_Indeed, the neural implant allows me to peruse what is bothering you on the surface._**"

"Great, not only do I have an assistant, I have a chip the size of a blood cell implanted in my brain that transmits my thoughts, conscious and subconscious to that assistant! Could things get any worse?"

"**_It would be prudent of me to remind you that you do not know the glyph combination to your home world._**"

"You just _had_ to remind me that I don't know the glyph combination back home, didn't you?" growled Ranma.

"**_It is something you would have shortly realised yourself, but it would have been a greater frustration to you to discover it on your own. However, I do know of a settlement we can travel to through the Stargate._**"

"Well, if you know the combination to another settlement that might know, then by all means, show the way ... maybe I can get in touch with the SGC from there ..."

With a slow jerk, the light indicated that Ranma should follow, which he did, after gathering his backpack, which had sat almost forgotten next to the stone chair.

The light showed Ranma to the city square, where it slammed itself into the gate – the Stargate rumbled and the inner ring started spinning slowly, only stopping periodically until seven symbols had been lit up.

Hesitantly, Ranma was about to place his hand on the red sphere in the middle of the device as he had been roughly informed he should to activate the thing when he noticed that the crystal was shattered.

He was about to ask how he was supposed to start the wormhole when the Stargate lit up and exploded in water-like energy.

"Are you sure I can't get back to the others?" Ranma asked as he waited for the ripples to settle more, momentarily forgetting to ask about the crystal.

"**_It is my duty to inform you that the Transport Array has been depleted._**"

"But aren't there more of them?"

"**_There are several, however the remaining stored energy available after our bonding is being used to power the Stargate._**"

"Damn," Ranma cursed. "Then I guess I have to find my way home the hard way ... one planet at a time ..."

With a final glance across the city and the horizon of a large planet this moon was orbiting, Ranma stepped through the Stargate, quickly accompanied by the light - his assistant.

The journey through the wormhole was exactly as Ranma recalled it – fast, dazzling and surprising with how it suddenly twisted, spun and turned to move the subspace pathway around gravity wells such as stars, planets, asteroids and such, all within the span of seconds.

Of course, the bit about the interstellar carousel ride being to avoid massive objects was news to Ranma, which he later correctly concluded was part of the information his assistant was feeding him.

When Ranma stepped through the other end of the Stargate, he expected to see another set of Furling ruins, like the last time he stepped through an instant transportation device, what he found was steppes of grass stretching far into the horizon and possibly beyond.

There was a few rises nearby, one looking suspiciously like a small volcano, but the lack of volcanic rock discounted that theory.

The light, or sprite as Ranma decided to call the thing, bobbed around in confusion – this was clearly not what they were supposed to find.

"Is there a problem, beyond the lack of Furling civilization?" questioned Ranma, starting to worry that his return might take longer than hoped.

"**_This is most disturbing. Initiate Scan._**"

Though Ranma couldn't understand what the thing meant, he soon picked it up as the sprite rose into the air, stopping at a couple of hundred metres. A light similar to the scanning he went through swept over the land in front of the Stargate, forming a red grid map of the area.

For some reason, Ranma got the impression that this was not something that actually occurred, but rather a Heads Up Display of some sort, transmitted through the device implanted in his head.

From this grid map rose several construction, obviously Furling in design, from what little Ranma had seen of it.

There was supposed to be an outpost of some kind there, but now it was gone with no signs of how or why.

The grid map and holograms vanished as the sprite's scans picked up on something.

An area in the tall mound near them was highlighted to Ranma's eyes, and soon, a skeleton of what could only be a space ship was shown under the ground – the original highlighted area was the only accessible airlock into what remained of the craft ... from what Ranma knew about aircraft and rockets, it seemed that the engines and belly had taken the brunt of the damage, leaving only a single corridor, a storage chamber and the cockpit intact.

Though, from the external damage, Ranma could tell that it must have been one hell of a bumpy landing.

"Great, so one of your ships crashed into the outpost?" he questioned.

"**_No, Furlings preferred to keep their feet on the ground and never really ventured into space beyond Stargate travel ... the internal workings of the ship indicate that it is of Asgard make – though the design is an unfamiliar one, perhaps an experimental craft._**"

"Asgard ship, you say?"

A hologram of some sort appeared in front of him, showing a very well known alien life form – the Roswell Grey!

"Are you saying those things actually exit? I thought they were myths blown out of proportion after Orson Welles' radio performance of War of the Worlds!"

In an instant, Ranma was assaulted by information about the Alliance of the Four Races that had existed thousands of years before, and he stumbled to his knees with a massive headache.

Had he had time to prepare for this, Ranma would not have lost his footing, nor experienced as much pain, but as it were, he growled and pounded the ground to get through the enormous pressure in his brain.

After what felt like an entire session of root canal surgery without anaesthesia, Ranma managed to reign in his focus, and got back to his feet.

"Don't do that again!" he growled at the sprite.

"**_But it was the fastest manner through which to deliver the necessary information to you._**"

"I don't care if it was the fastest way, I don't want a hundred years of history crammed into my head over the course of seconds!"

"**_Very well, however, may I remind you that the same amount of information would have taken the equivalent of three months as is your concept of time? This is time you will not always have at your disposal._**"

"Fine, if I need to have more information, you may feed it to me like you showed me the outpost," Ranma huffed. "So, what now? Another outpost?"

"**_Negative, at present time, your best option would be to salvage the ship and seek out your homeworld in it._**"

"Excuse me?" Ranma exclaimed. "I might know how to fly about twenty different aircraft back home, as well as a little something about maintaining them, but I don't know a thing about fixing ancient space ships!"

"**_According to my deep scans, the ship computer is still intact._**"

"The ship computer is intact?" Ranma repeated, confused. One minute the thing was telling him to fix the ship, now it said the ship could fix itself with a little help from the ship computer. "What can the ship computer do to fix all that damage?"

"**_A demonstration would be in order, and this can only be done on the bridge of the ship._**"

"Fine, show me when we're inside," huffed Ranma.

The sprite did as before, and showed Ranma the way over the hill to where the soil was the shallowest to the airlock.

Using only his hands, Ranma started digging into the soil – tearing large chunks out and flinging them hundreds of metres away before starting on the next, using ki to keep large clumps of dirt together and simplifying his job.

The sprite watched in curiosity, but occasionally sent another overlap image of the airlock's location to Ranma's mind so he wouldn't miss it.

At the pace Ranma kept, he had reached the nearly undamaged side of the ship in three minutes, and made a mess out of the landscape with the littering piles of dirt, grass and rocks as he made a somewhat stable tunnel through the hill – if it was to be used often, he would have to remove more dirt to prevent a cave-in, or brace the walls somehow.

However, as he cautiously approached the door, Ranma made an observation.

"Hey, how do I open that thing?"

In response, the sprite zipped at the door, and surprisingly enough phased right through it without doing any visible damage.

A moment later, a blue light lit up next to the door, and it rose up into the hull, allowing Ranma to enter the small room just inside – the door at the end opening as soon as his foot made contact with the floor.

The sprite emerged from the wall, and hovered ahead of Ranma to light up his path as he squeezed past a large metal beam that had collapsed into most of the corridor.

There was a door not far away, which the sprite merely passed by without pausing, so Ranma tentatively trusted its judgement and followed up the twisting and turning corridor, which was covered in dust.

At the end of the corridor, the sprite moved through the wall by the shut door, and it immediately opened.

Keeping a sarcastic comment about having his very own universal key, Ranma entered the bridge to find it as dead as the rest of the ship – with a single, almost egg-shaped chair in the middle. Against the wall, a pile of dust and bones lay in a crumbled heap – likely the captain of the ship flung forward by the impact, as the skull was much too large for any human Ranma had seen before, and the body too small, though the bones looked like they'd crumble if only the slightest whisper of a breeze touched them.

The sprite moved to the egg-like chair, and indicated for Ranma to move one of the rounded crystals attached to the surface of what appeared to be a slanted chair trey with Norse runes on it.

Ranma approached the chair, and carefully sat down sideways in it – as it was clearly not designed with someone as large as an adult human in mind and his legs wouldn't fit in the assigned slot. As the sprite indicated, Ranma moved one of the crystals across the trey, and was surprised when the chair lit up.

The chair was not the only thing that lit up – the wall where the bones of the previous captain lay came to life, displaying a three-dimensional image of the ship, with the broken sections marked in colour according to the severity of their damage.

"**_Allow me to translate,_**" the sprite stated helpfully.

In front of Ranma's eyes, or perhaps only in them, the runic lettering became reformed into perfectly understandable Japanese – for technicians ... most of it was thoroughly incomprehensible techno-babble to Ranma.

Though the words: CRITICAL STRUCTURE DAMAGE certainly didn't need explaining.

Following the pattern of crystal movements the sprite then showed him, Ranma pulled out an instruction manual for what was called a "Re-sequencer", which contained step-by-step instructions on how to build something like that with what might be available.

"You want me to build _that_ thing?" Ranma questioned. "How on earth would I manage that?"

"**_The instructions are clearly written._**"

"I know there are instructions right there! What I don't have is the engineering skills necessary t-"

"**_No engineering background is required. The instructions have been simplified enough that one need only be able to follow the illustrations to complete the structural specifications of the device._**"

"There's no need to get rude, I'm willing to do almost anything to get back home," amended Ranma quickly. Sighing and running his hands through his hair, he looked back at the instructions written across the wall. "And if making that thing helps, then I'll try to do it."

* * *

The instruction manual seemed to have been made specifically with Ranma's situation in mind – namely having no tools or available materials, and included a list of planet addresses where materials might be procured. Alternatively, it contained instructions on which non-essential ship components could be scavenged to assemble a rudimentary Re-sequencer device, starting with the crystals for opening and closing of doors outside the bridge.

Ranma quickly tore through the metal sheets that covered the wall next to the previously ignored door, and pulled out so many crystals, he fleetingly thought he could make a chandelier out of them.

Though the sprite seemed surprised at Ranma's strength and resilience, it supplied him with _visions_ of his next act in assembling the device.

The process, though thoroughly detailed not only about the what, where and when, but also the why of each action, took the better part of a week, which made Ranma nervous.

His food supply was dangerously close to running out, even with the extra supplies he had brought with him, and he would need to locate a replenishing food source soon.

-beep-

"Huh? What was that?" Ranma croaked out, having not conversed verbally with anyone for days, and so was out of practice. Finding nothing apart from himself, the sprite and the crude assembly of ship parts in front of him, he returned his attention to the device he was building. "What's next?"

"**_There are no further steps in this version of the Re-sequencer, it is complete._**"

"I'm done?" Ranma asked, surprised. "I thought there were more steps ..."

"**_Indeed there are more steps, but only for the advanced version which can handle more complex transformations such as a difference in mass._**"

"Oh, so I still need to make another one ..." sighed Ranma and got up to stretch. "Oh well, at least it'll be easier now that I've got this thing to make materials into proper parts ... but first, I need to get some food."

"**_The Re-sequencer is fully capable or transforming one thing into something else, such as nourishment. The only thing needed is the molecular composition of what you want to change the target object into._**"

"D'oh!" exclaimed Ranma, similarly to one of his favourite cartoon characters, and slapped his own forehead. "Of course, this thing can make food! I just need to get a reference for its molecular composition and shape ..."

"**_Your species is similar enough to the Alterans to be able to handle their dishes – and the ship computer contains a few foodstuff compositions from their civilization._**"

"Really?"

Ranma went over to the command chair console, where he accessed the ship computer, a process he had become familiar with thanks to the sprite, an searched out a file on humans and their sustenance requirements.

A long list of things Ranma didn't understand came up, and to experiment, he requested "Torrẽre Avis Caro" After a quick trip outside to get some grass, which he placed in the device, Ranma was presented with what looked like broiled chicken filet ... the downside was that it wasn't on a plate, and he had no utensils.

It was messy, and Ranma decided to request some sort of surface to produce the food on in the future.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **The Re-sequencer seems to exist in Asgard technology, but it hasn't been named, so I borrowed a phrase from Star Trek, one of the alternate names for the Replicator – to avoid confusion, I chose the current name stated instead of the common ST name.


	3. Chapter 2 Mischief

**Posted:** Wednesday 17 February 2010.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.

* * *

**Scourge of the Goa'uld – Chapter Two – Mischief**

* * *

Ranma stepped through the Stargate once more.

It had been a month since he was transported away from his team. For some reason, he couldn't connect a Stargate within the system to the world the sprite said was the one his team had been sent to, and it didn't know of the terms Earth or Tau'ri to navigate its memory banks of Stargate addresses.

The reason for his extensive travel through the Stargate system now lay in the repairs of the Asgard Experimental Sleipnir class space ship. The planet where the ship had crashed didn't have all the materials necessary to make it capable of interstellar travel, let alone making it worth his time to find his home world, so he had to visit other planets where there might be the required minerals.

True, the Re-sequencer could have fabricated the minerals, but it would not have been as stable as the real thing without a control sample to compare it to, so the sprite had recommended gathering the necessary materials by hand, purify them with the Re-sequencer and keep them for future comparison.

Because it would take too much time to do on his own, Ranma had used the ship computer to find the plans for a drone the Asgard used for construction, mining and repairs – using one of these to make external repairs and one for internal repairs, Ranma was free to find the needed materials.

Making them out of the first version he'd made of the Re-sequencer with the help of the second one had taken only a day, but making the second device had already taken about as long as the first, given its more intricate complexity.

"**_My scans indicate that there should be an ample supply of Naquadah this way._**"

Ranma followed the direction the sprite indicated naquadah could be found.

For the weeks he'd known it, the sprite had been an invaluable companion. It was not only a good listener, but also provided excellent advise ... even if it was a little smug when Ranma was proven wrong.

The creators of the sprite was a race called the Furlings, and apparently it was equipped with a large bulk of their collective knowledge ... despite this knowledge, it had no idea where Earth was, nor how he could return to his original mission site. From what Ranma could pick up, there were several safety procedures that the Stargate system put into place at certain locations once it became hazardous to travel there through them, which made it impossible to travel in through any normal Stargate.

The Stargate on Earth did not have these safety protocols in place, because of the improvised dialling system, which meant that at some point in the future, they might cause some calamity in the system they entered, either in the form of entering a dying world, or upsetting some internal nuclear balance in either a nearby planet or star.

Cresting a hill, Ranma paused as he came to see the pyramid shape of a Goa'uld mother ship sitting near what was obviously a quarry.

"Are you sure it's safe?" asked Ranma as he crouched down and studied the landscape. There were patches of wood near the quarry, but between the Stargate and those woods were almost two kilometres of open ground, where anyone could be spotted easily until they had passed over the hill – but if there were Death Gliders, that stretch of land would make anyone attempting a retreat sitting ducks.

"**_With the physical parameters I have observed in you, there is only a negligible possibility that you will not be able to traverse the distance unseen._**"

"If you say so."

Swiftly, Ranma made for the tree-line, and within moments reached it.

Carefully moving through the cover of trees, bushes and shrubs, Ranma quickly made it to the edge of the quarry, where countless human beings were labouring under abhorring conditions, while Jaffa patrolled both in and around the area to ensure order and productivity.

It really aggravated Ranma to see such slave labour, and he wished he could do something about it – but as it were, he was not ready to wage war against an army of Jaffa single-handed ... yet.

However, looking between his assistant and the Ha'tak not too far off, Ranma got an idea ... one which had him smirking nastily and did not promise good news for those aboard the vessel.

* * *

The interior of the Ha'tak was impressively gaudy in Ranma's mind.

The walls were gold, though if this was only what appeared to be gold, gold plating or something else entirely, Ranma didn't know – and were covered in hieroglyphs.

And seen from a tactical point of view, the extra space covered mostly by square columns was very flawed – an enemy, such as himself, could easily hide behind them to take cover from Jaffa fire or to evade detection from the loud thumps of Jaffa feet marching down the curved corridor.

This was exactly what Ranma did to avoid the patrol of two Jaffa who marched along the corridor.

Though he was unfamiliar with the layout of the ship, the sprite had gotten the gist of it in a scan, and guided him to his desired destination.

While hiding from a larger patrol, Ranma came upon a store room with crates of weapons. He recognised the Staff Weapon, but the one that looked like a coiled snake was unfamiliar to him.

The sprite was not familiar with these new weapons, but a scan of them revealed their effects. One shot would stun any living target with lightning pains – a second shot would kill a living target – a third one would dissolve the molecular cohesion of the target of sufficiently small sizes, like humans or smaller, making the target disappear. This all had to be done within a few hours or the effects of the previous shots would not count into the effect.

Ranma picked one up and tested its weight in his hand – it felt about as heavy as a Desert Eagle without a clip.

A switch near the bottom of the handle caused the thing to pop open, uncoiling like a serpent striking, and a second depression of this switch folded it back down.

The internal battery was the same as in the staff weapon, which made them interchangeable.

"**_With some minor changes, the power source for these weapons could serve as an alternate power source for your repair drones,_**" the sprite pointed out helpfully. "**_You should be able to carry them all in your large container if you remove the batteries from all these weapons._**"

"How much power would this thing give compared to the ones I made from the construction archive on the ship computer?" Ranma wondered as he pried open the weapon in his hands.

"**_Not much, but it should be able to provide enough power for the onboard Transporter to increase its range by two,_**" admitted the sprite after a quick computation. "**_The current range of the repair drones' transporters is about the same distance as the closest moon to the Furling outpost – converted into your measurements, the current distance for the repair drones to transport material or themselves from the ship is at three-hundred thousand kilometres – with this battery in addition, a drone could move twice as long, but only once before it would require a recharge._**"

"A larger safety area for the drones would mean a larger area to scour for building materials," Ranma agreed. Though the Re-sequencer could make most materials from something else, it required less energy to transform an object from one substance to another – the closer the similarity, the less energy was required. Organics into other organics wasn't the easiest of feats for the re-sequencer, but it was simpler than trying to make an organic material into mineral, which was why Ranma limited the re-sequencing to matter of the same category.

"**_Indeed,_**" confirmed the sprite.

"How long would it take to recharge one of these things?" asked Ranma and turned the small, clear crystal cylinder filled with a green glowing liquid.

"**_Preliminary scans estimate a recharge at one day of inactivity,_**" clarified the sprite and scanned the crystal tube.

"SGC has some staff weapons on hand," Ranma mused. "How long would their power sources last before they are depleted?"

"**_Depending on the frequency of use, the batteries could theoretically last anywhere from an hour to several millennia, one being continuous use and the other every few days._**"

"It recharges itself? So if you let the weapon rest between use, you can make it last forever," concluded Ranma.

"**_With some design modifications, yes,_**" agreed the sprite.

"Would these modifications make it possible to make a miniature re-sequencer?" asked Ranma suddenly.

"**_The range of uses for the Re-sequencer would be severely limited by a reduction in size,_**" informed the sprite. "**_Is there a reason behind this inquiry?_**"

"Just thinking about making a bottomless gun clip," admitted Ranma, patting the clip of his MP5, which was resting at his side from the strap hanging from his right shoulder.

"**_Your primitive projectile weaponry is very inefficient - why not seek out better weapons to modify to suit your needs instead?_**"

"I can't argue that they're inefficient," admitted Ranma. "But they're familiar, and I'd like to start by improving on what I know before branching out to new weapons. For now, the most pressing issues with my weapons is their finite ammunition, their limited range, and their frailness to harsh environments. But we can discuss this later – right now, we have a shipment of naquadah to sniff out."

"**_It would be prudent of me to remind you that the re-sequencer might be capable of reshaping naquadah, but like all other special elements, it will be unable to duplicate the energy properties it holds unless more power than returned is used in their creation. Also, might I suggest that you bring along one of each weapon found in this storage chamber for further study?_**"

"Sure," Ranma yielded and started prying open the oddly decorative crates to check their content, a little disappointed to recall the limitations of the re-sequencer.

Five minutes later, Ranma emerged from the storage chamber with a staff weapon slung over one shoulder, one snake-like weapon hanging from his belt, and what appeared to be some sort of grenade in his pocket. The chamber had been left a mess, so Ranma decided to hurry his quest along in the event that someone stumbled upon the mess he'd made.

After many twists, turns and a few climbs through venting shafts, Ranma emerged in a large room filled with crystals – the engine room, the home of most ship functions with the exception of shielding, which was a few levels down ... he might have to stop in there on the way out ...

"Let's see ... could you figure out which of these things control sensors?" Ranma asked mischievously.

"**_Certainly,_**" the sprite agreed. Several lines of light projected throughout the room. The sprite zipped through two columns of closed crystal stores and returned to Ranma's side. "**_System download complete – the bottom shelf of crystals on the right column pertains to scanning, long range sensors, short range sensors and internal sensors – all of them are currently off-line except the long range scanners. I would caution against disengaging this one at present as it would immediately alert the Goa'uld lord onboard of our presence._**"

"I was thinking more along the lines of disabling the other ones anyway," Ranma shrugged

Moving over to the specified shelf, Ranma pulled it out of the column and paused.

"Which ones are safe to remove?"

In response to Ranma's question, seven differently coloured crystals of differing sizes lit up, though as their added glow failed to reflect off the metallic surface of the column, Ranma was fairly certain it was only to his eyes that the glow grew. He had over the past weeks gotten used to this, and often wondered if anyone else would be able to see the sprite, or if only he could do so.

As carefully as possible, Ranma removed the crystals and stuffed them into his pocket.

"Now, where are the navigation controls?"

"**_The Navigational Control crystals are situated in the shelf directly behind you,_**" the sprite informed him.

"Sweet," laughed Ranma and shoved the shelf back in before continuing on the indicated one behind him. "How do I proceed?" he mused aloud.

After a moment of thought, he started switching crystals around at random while chuckling.

"How are the current navigational possibilities?" laughed Ranma.

"**_With the current changes to the system, the chances of any form of successful flight are as low as zero-point-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-eighteen percent. In order to get everything operational, the engineer will need to rearrange the crystals into correct sequence, thus detecting the alterations you made in here._**"

"Then I'm glad I won't be here," agreed Ranma. "Let's stop by the Shield array on our way out ..."

* * *

An hour after he entered the Ha'tak, Ranma exited, sneaking behind a change of Jaffa guard.

His back was stuffed with bars of naquadah, and his pockets brimming with crystals he'd taken from various systems in the ship. Of course, normal men wouldn't be able to carry that many bars of the heavy metal, much less sneaking around as stealthily as Ranma managed.

As he had on the way in, Ranma managed to bypass the quarry unseen, once more seething at the brutal treatment of the poor workers.

It was as he trotted up the slight hill that things started going down the drain.

Earth exploded on either side of Ranma, showering him in dirt just before the sound came, followed by the whine he'd been warned about – the sound of an approaching Death Glider.

Ranma's right hand sought out his MP5, and a single round was fired in the direction of the aircraft before he realised something.

His ammunition had to last a while until a sure source of more could be assured, and peppering an aircraft was not a good way to conserve bullets.

"How thick is the window on that cockpit?" asked Ranma curiously.

"**_Approximately as thick as your thumb,_**" answered the sprite.

"And how frail is it? Will it break at, say, a metal object about the size of a fist, weighing a couple of pounds and travelling against it at speeds below the sound barrier?"

"**_If it maintains present speed, and providing it has not activated its shields, the speed should be more than sufficient for such an object could penetrate the canopy of the glider approaching our location,_**" agreed the sprite.

"Good," Ranma breathed and unclipped one of his few grenades from the bandolier they were hanging on. "Then I won't have to find another way of bringing that thing down."

Pulling the pin on the grenade, Ranma mentally calculated the trajectory of the glider, measured his strength to his best and counted the seconds before the thing would explode.

With a mighty heave, Ranma propelled the grenade at the glider.

Even as far away as the glider was, having circled around to line Ranma up in its sights again, Ranma could hear the distinctive sound of glass shattering under the force of a hard and fast object.

The glider wobbled a little as the pilots tried to get a grasp of what had just happened.

-BOOOOM!-

Then it exploded.

Like a flaming rock, the glider fell from the sky and impacted the forest on the other side of the Stargate.

Such a display of pyrotechnics was bound to be noticed, and the attack was a very good indication that his presence had been detected somehow, which meant more gliders or Jaffa were likely on the way.

Feeling a little bad at the necessity of taking lives, Ranma picked up the pace and ran for the gate.

Zipping ahead of him, the sprite started dialling the address for the Furling outpost.

In the distance, Ranma heard the telltale sound of several gliders, ripping off another grenade, Ranma deposited it as he ran past the DHD.

Whether by design or coincidence the Stargate activated by the sprite's actions just in time for Ranma to storm through, which gave him and the sprite a full few seconds to reach the other side of the wormhole before the grenade detonated, breaking the connection.

"**_We will need to hurry along the repairs,_**" announced the sprite. "**_This location is no longer secure._**"

"I'm sure they didn't see anything," Ranma objected, but still sped up his march back to the ship, which was becoming unearthed by the drones, which looked like mechanical human skeletons the size of a ten-year-old – or if one stretched one's imagination a bit, a smaller version of the original Terminator robot without human skin, from the movies with the same name. Ranma made them like that because he had to be able to relate to their design, and being as familiar with the human body as he was, it was the best he could think of. "And that grenade had to have done some damage."

"**_Regardless, there might be ways for these creatures you call the Goa'uld to decipher a broken Dialling device,_**" insisted the sprite. "**_And though using the device would be futile, the Stargate would retain just enough power to connect with a single gate, which would be ample opportunity to chase us here or send for reinforcements. It would be prudent to use the time afforded to us to patch the ship into space-worthy condition and conduct further repairs in space ... preferably in a different system._**"

"Fine, I'll make the drones finish repairs of the engines, seal up a few rooms, fill one of them with organic materials that won't spoil too soon, and blast off into space," Ranma intoned and dropped down the small cliff that had been the tunnel he'd made a few weeks ago. "Come to think of it, I might as well have one drone produce more drones to increase productivity ... But first we need to make a few quick stops for some more sample minerals."

"**_There are only two more locations in my memory banks that could provide new mineral samples,_**" the sprite supplied hesitantly.

"How long could that take?" Ranma laughed and dropped his pack on the floor of the bridge alongside the alien weapons. "What has me worried is getting the ship capable of getting off the ground inside- ... how long do you think we have?"

"**_If the level of technology is any indication, should they have the capability of deciphering the internal workings of the dialling device, it would take approximately three days to do so, and another half hour to manually lock the glyphs in place for a connection._**"

"So at the least, we have three days," concluded Ranma. "If we had twelve drones instead of two to do all the work, then we might make it ... I'll get one of them to build more! Meanwhile, you start interfacing with the ship computer and test out hypothesises for miniaturising the re-sequencer – I will then prepare a big meal, as I'll undoubtedly need it."

* * *

OMAKE – by Ice-Tea-1983

As Ranma exited the engine room, he felt a sudden urge to do sing – so over powering was it that he gave in.

"With cat-like tread,

"Upon our prey we steal," he sang gently as he skulked down the corridor of the Ha'tak. In his head, he heard the appropriate music artfully written by misters Gilbert and Sullivan. "In silence dread,

"Our cautious way we feel," as he sang, as it tends to with all, his voice rose as he felt the music course through him. "No sound at all,

"We never speak a word," Ranma's voice rang through the corridor.

"A fly's foot fall would be distinctly heard!"

-crash!- Ranma slammed his fist through a pillar.

"So stealth-fully the pirate creeps while all the household soundly sleeps!

"Come friends who plough the sea,

"Truce to navigation,

"Take another station!

"Le-e-et's vary piracy – with a little burglary!" as he said this, the sprite opened a door to another storage chamber, an offer Ranma didn't object to. Crate after crate was pried open in seconds. "Come friends who plough the sea,

"Truce to navigation,

"Take another station!

"Le-e-et's vary piracy – with a little burglary!

"Here's your cro-owbar," he sang and tore apart another crate with his hands. "A-and your centre bit,

"Your li-i-ife-preserver," he continued and threw away a staff weapon, which made a thwak as it impacted the wall behind him. "You may want to hit.

"Your silent matches," Ranma sang and pocketed the power source of another staff weapon. "Your dark lantern seize – take your file and your skeletonic keys.

"With catlike tread!

"In silence dread!"

Pulling out the snake-like gun, Ranma disintegrated the emptied containers and useless weapons with a flourish befitting the music playing in his head.

"With cat-like tread,

"Upon our prey we steal,

"In silence dread,

"Our cautious way we feel,

"No sound at all,

"We never speak a word – a fly's foot fall would be distinctly heard!"

Singing like a maniac, Ranma marched out of the empty storage chamber and down the corridor.

"Come friends who plough the sea,

"Truce to navigation,

"Take another station!

"Le-e-et's vary piracy – with a little burglary!"


	4. Chapter 3 More Mischief and Discovery

Scourge of the Goa'uld – Chapter Three – More Mischief and Discovery

* * *

"**_This is a most intriguing transformation,_**" commented the sprite as Ranma skulked towards Sleipnir, the Asgard ship he was repairing by use of repair drones. "**_What is the cause for this genetic alteration? Have you reached the mating season for your species and responded to the lack of females by turning into one?_**"

"No," groused Ranma and shook her damp hair, which was followed by an almost comic shake of her feet to get some of the water out of her boots. "It's a curse, triggers by water – cold water changes me into a girl, warm water returns me to my proper gender. And you could have warned me about that slippery rock – not to mention that I had to fish the metal ore out of a river."

"**_I did not realise it would be an issue,_**" argued the sprite. "**_I will however make appropriate warnings of this nature in the future._**"

"Thanks," sighed Ranma and descended the slope that now surrounded the excavated ship. Three drones whizzed by, digging up dirt and bringing it inside to the second re-sequencer Ranma had made, which was exclusively made for building material up to the size of a car. "Might as well make some warm water along with my next meal – that little expedition took too long for my tastes."

"**_But the avian creature observing us was more than it appeared, travelling in a straight line would have been unwise, should it have nefarious intentions._**"

"True," Ranma agreed. "That raven didn't act normally ... though how a raven got to that planet is a mystery to me ..."

"**_My memory banks indicate that a number of intelligent species have transplanted creatures from one world to another,_**" the sprite commented. "**_Much like the Goa'uld did to humans ... it is not unlikely that animals have been relocated with them._**"

"Sounds plausible," Ranma pressed the re-sequencer's activation button.

With a flash of light, a cup of steaming water appeared in place of the lump of dirt that had been there.

With a well practiced movement, Ranma picked up the cup and emptied it over her head, changing her gender again.

Water was a relatively simple order, as there were already water molecules floating around in the air, as well as oxygen and hydrogen molecules separately, condensing these molecules into a small body of water demanded very little of the re-sequencer, and for this, Ranma was glad, as it meant hygiene did not need to be sacrificed.

"What's so special about this metal, anyway?" Ranma questioned and pulled a brittle lump of ore from one of the outer pockets of his pack.

"**_It is virtually indestructible,_**" the sprite explained.

Ranma's thumb broke off a flake unintentionally.

"**_Once refined ..._**" elaborated the sprite at Ranma's unasked question. "**_The upside to this metal is that unlike naquadah, it can be safely reproduced in full strength._**"

"So I can coat the hull of Sleipnir with this stuff?" Ranma mused.

"**_Indeed, only a massive amount of energy would be able to undo its protection._**"

"Massive like a nuclear detonation or a crash into a star?"

"**_The latter, though some radiation would still leak through from a nuclear explosion,_**" clarified the sprite. "**_Which is why I recommend initiating repairs and reinforcements of the ship shields in addition to any hull coating you desire._**"

"What was there to be found at the next address?" Ranma asked curiously, diverting the topic before it could become too complicated for him.

"**_Unless things have changed too much since my last update, there should be a special crystal that is capable of expanding into cave networks or retract into cube form through contact with the ground or its removal ... the Furlings studied this crystal for years before mastering a set of commands that could be fed into the crystal, controlling how and where it would grow to such a degree that it would be impossible to detect seams in the walls or ground or even furniture. With extra power, they were able to modify the crystal to such a degree that when it retracted into the small form, it would not destroy whatever was inside but rather preserve it and store it in a pocket universe solely belonging to that crystal, to be summoned back into existence when it was activated again. Needless to say, it became quite popular with the Furlings who went on journeys of discovery or training, as it was a form of portable home which was safe, quite comfortable and left no trace. This is what I wished for you to find before leaving, as it would make hiding from enemies much simpler._**"

Ranma blinked in confusion at the long explanation. "Wait, if the Furlings studied it so much, and it was so popular, then why didn't I see anything here at the outpost or back on the Furling home-world?"

"**_There might be, but it is very difficult to locate the crystal dwellings unless one has created them or been invited – I am afraid I do not possess the strength for such a deep scan, and am unable to assist in finding them outside the planet where the crystal was first discovered._**"

"Let me guess, because it's so special, the re-sequencer can't make them or copy them," ventured Ranma.

"**_Indeed, though it could make something that looked like the crystal in appearance only._**"

"Just give me a moment and I'll be ready to leave again," sighed Ranma and set about making himself another meal and travel rations, which was now easy after discovering that Asgard foods wasn't toxic to him ... his favourite was the yellow food cubes between which he sandwiched a blue and a green one for a little variation.

"**_Repair status is at thirty percent overall,_**" the sprite informed him as he bit down on the oversized food cubes, which would have been enough to feed ten people in their present size, but just enough to fill Ranma's belly for a few hours. "**_Engine power output is at seventy percent and stabilising – hyper drive engines are off-line and in need of repair – the corridor, storage room and bridge has been sealed and the command chair is operational. The exploration will not need to run long, as the ship is capable of flight at your order – and we are closing in on the deadline for possible arrival of Goa'uld forces from your entertainment recently._**"

"Just make sure the ship won't fall apart when we take off," Ranma stated and finished his sandwich. "While the drones reinforce the structure and load up on organic materials for my food, we make this trip and return inside an hour – the only thing anyone will find when the three-day deadline runs out is a crater where the ship used to lie."

Going over his equipment and rations one last time, Ranma couldn't wait until he could make the miniature re-sequencer for his clips so he wouldn't need to worry about his bullets running out any time soon.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Ranma geared up and marched out of the ship, noting on the way that the drones, now numbering almost a dozen in total, had stopped excavating, and focused on bracing the skeleton that was a majority of the ship according to his wishes. Only a single drone hovered back and forth with weightless containers of wood, grass and plants, stocking up on food sources for the journey.

The crater and partially completed ship was clearly visible from the gate, and Ranma hoped the sprite was accurate about its estimations, or that he had overestimated the Goa'uld's abilities or resourcefulness.

The sprite quickly dialled the address, and Ranma hurried through.

It was dark when Ranma emerged on the other end, but that changed as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting provided by the shimmering event horizon of the wormhole.

"Crap," intoned Ranma. "This is a Ha'tak, isn't it?"

As the wormhole disengaged, the sprite lit up brighter than before to show that this was indeed a cargo hold aboard a Ha'tak. Thankfully, the room was empty of Jaffa or Goa'uld to notice his arrival.

"**_My preliminary scan indicates that this ship is in orbit around the planet we had intended to visit,_**" informed the sprite. "**_The crew is minimal, so there should be some time before it is supposed to leave._**"

"But if it's preparing to leave for somewhere, why is it in orbit instead of on the surface? Wouldn't it be simpler to stock up from the ground?" Ranma questioned and felt along the wall for the door's release switch. He had already made sure the DHD was there and connected, so he had an escape route if things became hairy.

"**_If it is in orbit, there is a greater level of control over whom is allowed aboard, thus less chance of sabotage or infiltration,_**" the sprite suggested. "**_And most supplies can be brought in on Ring Transport or through the Stargate._**"

"So secrecy is important, huh?" mused Ranma slyly. "Then I might as well test the level of security on this thing ... hey, maybe they've got some more naquadah!"

"**_Please wait one moment,_**" the sprite requested, and lit up for an instant. "**_There is no refined naquadah onboard aside from weapons, power-sources and technology in general. And no naquadah ore is present on the surface of the planet below us. I apologise, it seems this journey was in vein._**"

"Nonsense," argued Ranma and twisted the release switch, which was a serpent. "While we're here we can delay the ship for a while – who knows, maybe we'll save some lives by delaying it!"

Sneaking into the corridor beyond the cargo hold, Ranma peered around the square columns dotting the edges.

The sound of a pair of Jaffa guards on patrol was coming closer.

They were silent in all but the metallic stomp of their feet, taking their mission or job seriously. This was the kind of thing Ranma could respect – too many had a tendency of becoming relaxed in a job that didn't hold promise of danger and didn't pay attention to it.

Once the two Jaffa were out of sight, Ranma re-emerged from behind the pillar and headed down the other way. Perhaps he could sabotage some Death Gliders this time in addition to the ship's systems ...

As the last time he visited a Ha'tak, Ranma tampered with the systems that weren't already active – it would take days if not weeks to undo the damage – and unlike last time, Ranma tore out all the weapon power sources he could get his hands on, except for a single zat'nik'tel, as he had learned they were called. The sprite took the time to download the Goa'uld language this time, and translated the etchings on the case the weapon was in.

The single zat, as Ranma abbreviated it to, was used to disintegrate several crates of weapons, which had been emptied for power sources. The crystal tubes of liquid naquadah were stowed away in Ranma's stuff space, which he had not yet told the sprite about.

As he wanted, the duo managed to stop by the hangar, or the glider bay as it might be called.

It was completely different from how Ranma had imagined.

In his mind, the hangar of a Ha'tak was similar to the hangar of a hangar ship, rows upon rows of aircraft ready to be taxied onto a ramp that would take the craft to the launching area.

In reality, the Death Gliders were suspended by clamps, folded together like bats along a cave ceiling. The wings, which were folded together, really made up most of the size and shape of the aircraft – with the wings in their current position, the thing might actually fit through the Stargate.

"**_Indeed, by my calculations you should be able to fit the glider through the Stargate in its present state, but its weight far surpasses anything I have witnessed you handle,_**" the sprite answered, alerting Ranma to having voiced his question.

"How heavy is it?" asked Ranma and rubbed his chin in thought as he estimated where the best place would be to get and maintain a grip.

"**_Based on the parameters specified earlier, the approximate weight of this craft is close to five tonnes._**"

"Piece of cake," scoffed Ranma confidently, and picked out the one closest to the entrance.

The canopy slid open after the sprite zipped through it, and Ranma dropped his things inside and had the sprite close the canopy again.

After sliding around the opening in the ground under the Death Glider, Ranma pushed against the back.

The tips of the wings barely brushed the ground as the big vehicle moved.

After two minutes of applying pressure, the Death Glider broke off the clamps holding it in place, and crashed into the ground.

Ranma nearly fell into the shaft through which the Death Glider was supposed to drop when released, but managed to grab onto the edge just as it came into reach.

Climbing out was a simple task, though he was somewhat tired from breaking two thick clamps as well as pushing a five ton vehicle to it wouldn't fall into the shaft.

Ranma quickly got his second wind, and after some shifting managed to place himself under the folded glider, though he was doubled over like the mythical Atlas with the world on his shoulders.

As slowly as a tortoise compared to his normal speed, Ranma scuttled through the door he had entered, just barely managing to get the glider through without scraping the sides – he would have to thank the Goa'uld later for being so pompous as to need excessively large doors and corridors, it just made the grand theft aircraft that much easier ... though it was highly unlikely that anyone had foreseen the possibility of someone stealing a Death Glider the direction he had chosen.

Ahead of him, Ranma saw the two Jaffa had gone one round and was on their second. He was behind them, so they hadn't seen him, and Ranma was very careful not to make a sound, even with the heavy object perched on his shoulders and back.

Zipping ahead of him, the sprite opened the cargo hold doors for him after the Jaffa had passed them.

Just as Ranma turned into the room, one of the wing tips barely scraped the ground, producing a faint sound.

"What was that?" one of the Jaffa guards asked his companion in Goa'uld – the sprite translated for Ranma.

"I heard nothing," the other responded.

"I am sure I heard a noise," the first Jaffa insisted.

"Just as you heard a noise in the cargo hold a while ago, or the engine room," the other countered. "There was nothing to make the sound then, and there will not be anything now. Perhaps it is time for you to receive a new larva – its advancing maturity must be playing tricks on your mind."

"Believe what you wish, I will investigate," the first snapped.

"Very well, I will finish our patrol and eat some food," the second acquiesced.

Meanwhile, the sprite had dialled the address back to the Furling outpost, and Ranma was almost through when the Jaffa guard came through the doors.

The sheer impossibility of a crawling glider was enough to stun the guard for a moment.

This was the moment Ranma used to toss the glider through the gate and repeat the performance with the guard before rushing through on his own.

On the other end, Ranma picked up the unconscious Jaffa and tossed him back into the gate – well knowing what would happen if one attempted to travel back through an incoming wormhole. That was one less worry.

The wormhole disengaged and Ranma breathed a sigh of relief.

If all went well, the missing Jaffa would be the one suspected for the destruction of large quantities of weapons, tampering with the ship's systems and the removal of a glider – no one would suspect that someone from the outside had done it and there would only be called for a change of guard or a more thorough investigation into the loyalties of those onboard.

A sudden sting at the base of his neck had Ranma gasping.

Sure, he might have strained himself carrying that huge thing for the long distance he had – but he hadn't pulled a muscle in a long time, and least of all one of his trapezius muscles.

Something was not right. In fact, something was severely wrong!

"What happened?" Ranma grunted through grit teeth, his right hand seeking to alleviate the pain in his neck.

"**_It appears that a parasitic creature has burrowed under your skin and is wrapping itself around your upper spine,_**" the sprite calmly announced. "**_It is attempting to burrow into your skull as we speak, but your bone structure appears to be somewhat denser than normal and is causing some trouble for the thing._**"

"Goa'uld," gasped Ranma in realisation. This was what had happened to Major Kowalski during the mission where the SGC discovered Chulak and acquired Teal'c as an ally.

"**_From the descriptions I have heard and the scans I have performed of Jaffa, that is a correct assumption,_**" agreed the sprite. "**_It has now burrowed a hole in your skull and is extending tendrils into your brain – should I initiate counter-actions?_**"

"Yes!" grunted Ranma, feeling himself being pulled from the controls of his body, so to speak. The sensation was very much like being wrapped tightly in a suffocating plastic bag and suspended from the ceiling of a dark room with the only view of the outside world was a small window or television.

"**_Very well, stimulating an increase in antibody production,_**" the sprite announced.

"THIS IS INDEED A POWERFUL HOST," observed Ranma's distorted voice in satisfaction, flexing Ranma's hand into a fist. The fist was thrust through the ground in a swift punch and met no resistance until the fist stopped on its own when the arm was up to the elbow. "MOST IMPRESSIVE – WITH THIS BODY I SHALL PROVE MYSELF THE GREATEST OF ALL THE GODS!"

"**_Producing nano-cells to combat external influence,_**" announced the sprite.

"WHAT IS THIS?" the young Goa'uld asked in surprise and curiosity and looked directly at the sprite. "NEVER BEFORE HAVE I SEEN SUCH A CREATURE ... OR IS THIS TECHNOLOGY?"

"**_Nano-cells completed,_**" the sprite continued, ignoring the Goa'uld who attempted to grab it, only to have his hand pass through it. "**_Initiating foreign body extraction._**"

"WHAT?" the Goa'uld exclaimed.

Ranma felt as though the edge of the plastic bag had ripped a little, and started using all his strength to free himself.

"WHAT? NO!" cried the Goa'uld as it felt its control slipping.

"**_Countering toxic release,_**" the sprite announced. "**_Extraction in process, twenty percent._**"

"CEASE YOUR ACTIONS AT ONCE!" bellowed the Goa'uld. "YOUR GOD COMMANDS YOU!"

"**_Command invalid, incorrect user, continuing extraction – fifty percent._**"

"NO!"

"**_Extraction interrupted,_**" the sprite suddenly announced.

"GOOD!" the Goa'uld smirked.

"**_Nano-cells concentrated, severing tendril connection – complete._**"

"WHAT?"

"**_Continuing extraction of parasitic body, seventy percent complete._**"

"DISPOSING OF THE HUSK WILL DO NO GOOD, I HAVE MERGED WITH THIS HOST BODY AND WILL NOT GIVE IT UP!" Ranma felt a slimy, painful sensation at the base of his neck and witnessed with the Goa'uld as the fully matured larva Goa'uld body dropped to the ground.

"**_Parasitic foreign body extracted,_**" the sprite announced. "**_Isolating foreign consciousness._**"

Ranma suddenly felt in control of his own body, yet retained a splitting headache as he collapsed to his knees. "Is it gone?" he gasped.

"**_No,_**" the sprite responded. "**_The foreign consciousness had a surprisingly firm grasp – complete ejection was impossible. However, it is isolated by nano-cells and is slowly broken down – once the consciousness is dead, its knowledge will be yours eventually._**"

"Why would I want that?" grunted Ranma and got up on one knee. The pain was more bearable than before, but he could still hear the faint mental echoes of a tortured creature slowly dying.

"**_From what I have been able to learn of this parasite, it has a genetic memory, meaning it knows all its predecessors knew at the time they were conceived. All its parent knew upon its making the parasite will know, and it will expand on that knowledge for the next generation._**"

"So if it knows the address to Earth-"

"**_Then you will as well, once it has broken down and deceased. And with the numerous interesting gadgets at the disposal of the Goa'uld, you might pick up a few things._**"

"Okay, I can see the deal – I can't select a single item from a closed room, I get the whole package or nothing at all, right?" Ranma stated and got back to his feet, making it a point to step on the husk of the Goa'uld larva.

"**_That is a somewhat accurate description of the situation,_**" agreed the sprite. "**_As I have no working knowledge of the parasite's mind or knowledge, I have no way of isolating specific information – it will all have to be absorbed as a whole._**"

"And how long will breaking down the parasite take?" grit Ranma and massaged the closing hole in his neck.

"**_Approximately one-thousand one hundred days at present speed, for that time the parasitic consciousness will only be able to observe your actions without being able to interact with you or your actions._**"

"Three years?" Ranma confirmed.

"**_Indeed._**"

"And what's this nano-cell stuff?"

"**_It is an mutated, dying blood cell that obeys conscious demands, such as orders to make repairs or eject foreign matter – I assure you they are completely harmless and will assume normal cell functions once their command has been completed ... their lifespan is only a few minutes, but more can be produced. Shall I speed up your recovery some more?_**"

"I'll be fine as soon as this headache passes," assured Ranma, and started working on picking up the glider again. It took a great deal of effort to focus beyond the headache and getting his limbs to work properly, but after about a minute the glider was back on Ranma's shoulders, the cool metal pressing against the wound he'd gotten.

When Ranma approached the ship, the drones quickly finished their jobs and entered the ship, where they had built a compartment to be stored in next to the storage room.

Ranma dropped off the glider in the corridor, and emptied it of his pack and equipment before proceeding to the bridge with the sprite staying one step behind.

"Preparing engines for lift-off," Ranma intoned as he sat down in the enlarged command chair, which now also had openings on either side of the table for easy access and exit. "Sealing doors and pressurising internal atmosphere."

Moving the crystals on the console according to how the sprite showed him, Ranma was tense as he felt the entire ship shaking.

A hiss told him the doors had been sealed and that the air was circulating artificially.

A deep hum and rumble told him the engines were powering up.

"**_We have left the ground, and are slowly ascending from the surface,_**" the sprite informed him.

"Engaging artificial gravity, double-checking life support systems ..."

"**_Engaged – and stable._**"

"Let's hope this holds ... without hyper drive, this is going to be a long trip."

* * *

On the ground, the Stargate activated, and an old man stepped through.

His forehead was marred with a gold tattoo of a snake in an oval, and scars and wrinkles decorated his face.

This was a Jaffa, a First Prime, and he was alone.

The plain of land before him was barren, and had a canyon-like crater in the middle with no sign of life other than some tufts of grass.

A piece of dirt falling from the sky alerted the Jaffa to foul play, and in an instant, his staff weapon was aimed upwards and ready to fire.

He did not.

The surprise on the Jaffa's face as he saw the strange shape shrinking in the distance was unlike any that would normally grace its features.

"Then this is not a Tau'ri base," the First Prime concluded as he watched the ship disappear. "This is odd. I am certain the man I saw running into the Chappa'ai was of the Tau'ri – his attire said as much.

"But instead I find a strange ship that looks only half done," the old man finished. "It might be just as well – I do not think he would have listened to my offer anyway ... But he has supplied me with a scapegoat for the mess he left behind - the only one who suspected me of being untrue to Apophis ... I will be sure to use this opportunity."

As he moved to reactivate the Stargate, the old Jaffa stepped on something squishy.

Looking down, he saw a dead Goa'uld larva covered in blood. The mouth was open and tendril stubs clearly hanging out.

"Most intriguing," the Jaffa mused. "A dead infant god without its host attached ... what interesting allies have I missed?"

* * *

Author's Notes: I know the crystal is the same as the ones the Tok'ra use, but neither Ranma, the sprite or the SGC know about the Tok'ra at this point. I chose to have the Furlings perfecting the technology the Tok'ra has in programming the crystals, because they were a part of the Four Great Races, but not much has been seen in canon as proof of their greatness apart from the key to the portal that took people from the planet to the moon where a peaceful Utopia was supposed to be.

The Furlings in this story were great engineers, but preferred to remain on the ground if they could help it – not that they were afraid of heights ... Anyway, as the Goa'uld had not gotten into power yet when a majority of the Furlings took off in search of the Centre of the Universe and the mysteries of what they'd find there, the sprite had no way of knowing where the Goa'uld had taken root – and those Furlings who stayed behind were either killed off in the crash of Sleipnir or went into hiding on a planet which has not been discovered by the Goa'uld and confined themselves to that world. I have yet to decide which is the case.

The nano-cells was an on-the-spot invention of mine, as I felt the scene needed something extra – and the original idea called for the immediate death of the parasite (I refuse to call it a symbiote at this point, as the scene shows it ... perhaps the Tok'ra are symbiotic, but the Goa'uld are parasitic) but then it struck me how ironic it would be to have the parasite experience what it normally makes the host feel, namely trapped and helpless as it watches and waits for death.

I know the scene with Bra'tak is somewhat ... lame at the moment, but I'm working on it.


	5. Chapter 4 Kobushi part I of IV

Posted: Monday 11 June 2012

Disclaimer; This fanfiction uses existing ideas, characters and or worlds, but is an independent work of art. I own nothing, hence the reason for publishing my writings here instead of in real books where I could make some money.

* * *

Scourge of the Goa'uld

Chapter Four – Kobushi (part I)

* * *

It had been a long journey, two weeks in fact, and Ranma was getting stir crazy from being cooped up in the small part of the large ship he could venture into.

As long as the ship was moving, the drones would not be able to work on the ship due to lack of materials to build from and the danger of micro meteors knocking them away. And while in motion, the ship's scanners worked more in a tunnel manner than in a sphere, due to the level of repair the ship was in, so it was barely enough to avoid space-borne objects directly in the ship's way. Something small might slip by close enough to escape detection or into knock protruding objects, but far enough away to avoid fatal collision with the pressurized areas.

To pass the time, Ranma had done many things; He had watched the passing stars and other objects through the monitor that covered most of the wall in front of the command chair, he had done kata and made attempts at improving them, he attempted meditation, he started writing a journal, doodling various ideas, and tinkering with making a bottomless gun clip based on the suggestions the sprite had gotten from its interface with the ship computer. He was close to making a working prototype, but it took too long for the bullets to reform due to the different chemicals and powders in the gunpowder and the different metal for the casing. If he could find a better way to fire the bullet without the use of gunpowder, the bullets might form much faster as they wouldn't need so many different things at once.

One possibility as a substitution for gunpowder was magnetic acceleration, but having no idea how to achieve this yet and not wanting to rely completely on the sprite, Ranma left the idea, along with his other ideas and doodles, stored in a private file on the ship computer. After all, there was no need to waste resources making a physical note pad or sketch pad when the ship computer could act as the same thing with some preparations.

The sensors had rejected two star systems already due to the lack of a planet with a habitable atmosphere for Ranma, but it had found one now. The problem was that Sleipnir might not survive re-entry.

"But I've gotta get out of here!" Ranma whined childishly. "All I've seen for the past weeks is the inside of this ship. The view on the monitor was pretty cool, but I need fresh air and solid ground under my feet!"

"_**Long range transporters have not yet been repaired,**_" the sprite informed him. "_**But if you wish to go to the habitable planet so badly, you could leave the ship in orbit near the asteroid field between the fourth and fifth planet and use the glider sitting in the corridor to get to the planet. Meanwhile, the drones can finish repairs without problems and without using the materials in the storage room. To speed up the repairs, you could have two or three drones create more drones if there is a need. By the time we return, they might even have completed repairs.**_"

"Sounds reasonable," agreed Ranma hastily in order to get out sooner. Action decided, Ranma started programming in a delayed reaction for the orders he left behind so the drones wouldn't start immediately and prevent him from making it to the glider before the seals broke.

The glider had received a thorough scan from the sprite, and discovered a hidden programming in the system that would return the glider to the home-world of Apophis at the fastest speeds the glider could achieve, which meant hundreds of years and certain death to the pilot.

Ranma was instructed on how to remove it, and while he was at it managed to increase the engine strength without robbing it of more energy. It simply amazed Ranma how much the sprite could figure out while interfacing with Sleipnir's ship computer.

Preparing food for a few days, and packing his equipment, Ranma soon rushed through the door of the bridge into the corridor, and with the sprite's special method of opening doors, jumped into the cockpit of the glider.

The thing was much better to fly than any aircraft Ranma had flown before, as it ignored more Gs than man-made planes while not in space, and due to its propulsion systems it could stop and turn on a button. And the controls were much more instinctual than relying on knobs, buttons and switches.

Of course, the only experience Ranma had with flying the glider was from a few hovering sessions along the corridors of the ship, but compared to the previous aircraft he had flown, there was no doubt the Death Glider was superior.

He would still have to make alterations or improvements later, there were a few ideas of his that could make it better than it was in certain areas.

With a hiss of compressed air, the canopy sealed itself, and the sprite opened the doors leading to the decompression chamber.

Carefully, Ranma managed to inch the glider through the doors into the chamber, and the sprite closed the doors behind him.

"_**Removing chamber atmosphere,**_" the sprite announced.

Ranma listened as a hiss outside the glider slowly faded away as air was sucked out of the chamber.

"_**Chamber atmosphere removed. Opening external doors.**_"

Had the sprite not removed all air from the chamber, Ranma knew enough about vacuum that he was certain the glider would have been blown outside violently, just like in the movies when a spacecraft unexpectedly opened its doors to the cold vacuum of space.

With a lot more throttle than earlier, Ranma burst from the chamber with a whoop of victory, and watched in fascination as the wings spread not three seconds after being free of his metal prison.

A victory loop around the kilometer long ship was in order, taking care to avoid the belt of meteors and asteroids he had parked near enough not to have the ship drawn in by their gravity nor attract any debris.

Already, Ranma saw the doors closing, and knew that in moments, the drones would come outside with the larger re-sequencer and finish repairing the ship using the nearby asteroids and rocks as building material.

Knowing that things would not progress any faster with him buzzing in the way, Ranma set course for the second planet from the system star, which was the planet confirmed capable of sustaining life.

The flight took an hour, impressive compared to Earth standards, as the same journey would have taken almost five months with present level of shuttles and rockets available.

As they came into orbit, Ranma noticed that the surface of the planet was composed of a super continent; one large mass of land with only a few small islands dotting the deep blue water.

What puzzled Ranma was the clusters of light appearing on the shadow-side.

"Are those lights what I think they are?" asked Ranma curiously.

"_**The lights appear artificial in nature,**_" agreed the sprite. "_**And their general closeness to bodies of water indicate some sort of civilization, but the question remains; how evolved is this civilization?**_"

"They're not Goa'uld, are they?"

"_**The ship scans of the system does not indicate any space-faring people,**_" corrected the sprite.

"So they could be a people under the neglected rule of a Goa'uld," concluded Ranma.

"_**It is best to err on the side of caution,**_" agreed the sprite.

Targeting a dark spot outside a large cluster of lights, Ranma started re-entry and activated the glider's shields.

Though he had never been to space, and thus never had to re-enter the atmosphere, Ranma knew what to normally expect, such as extreme heat due to friction caused by the air against the speedy intruding object. This did not happen. The shields completely negated the heat, and the only indication he left behind was a small gathering of vapor in his wake.

As he came closer to the surface, the radar-like sensors on the glider picked up air traffic nearby.

"_**I am picking up a communications signal similar to the radiation waves emitting from your 'radio' when you last demonstrated it to me,**_" the sprite informed him. "_**Though it is on a different wave length.**_"

"What are they saying?" asked Ranma, knowing this to be a serious situation.

"'_**Unidentified craft, you are in violation of seasonal air-space restrictions, please get into formation with us and be escorted to the ground or we will be forced to open fire.'**_

"_**We should probably do as they say,**_" suggested the sprite. "_**It is not good to get off on the wrong foot with the inhabitants of the world one visits if there are no prior relations with them.**_"

Looking out through the canopy, Ranma saw what looked like clumsy replicas of the Death Glider with a pair of tail fins at the back of the egg-like fuselage.

"I guess we can safely assume the Goa'uld have been here at some point," commented Ranma as he fell into formation between the two air crafts and matched their speed.

After a few moments of flying in formation, the other crafts guided Ranma to an illuminated spot of ground on the outskirts of town.

The landing was silent and flawless, though the two escorts shook a bit as they touched the ground.

Ranma's canopy slid open, and so did the ones of his escort.

The crafts were surrounded by soldiers aiming short staff weapons at him.

The apparel of the soldiers reminded Ranma of a mix between Japanese foot-soldier armor and WWI Allied soldier uniforms. The armor was still undoubtedly Japanese, but instead of being rigid in tradition, it had evolved to account for terrain and practicality.

"Raise your arms in the air and exit the craft!" a high pitched male voice commanded in an old Japanese dialect.

Doing as told, Ranma slowly stepped out, onto the right wing, and down onto the ground, his hands in the air but ready to act if it was necessary. While it was certainly possible, Ranma doubted these soldiers were as fast as he was.

"State your name, origin and business flying over Amenoukashi during the annual festival of the Death of Amaterasu!" the voice ordered next. Identifying the source was difficult as it reverberated all over the arena and was in the dark.

"I am Saotome Ranma, First Lieutenant of the United States Air Force, SGC program, Earth," announced Ranma loudly. Though it wasn't really in his nature, he decided to try some diplomacy. "I was not aware of any festival upon arriving. I have merely been traveling for a long time and wished to touch firm ground with my feet and breathe fresh air. I apologize deeply for trespassing against you and your culture."

A short and gangly man in more elaborate armor stepped out of the shadows and sized him up.

Ranma felt like a piece of meat being inspected for imperfections by a premiere chef, and he didn't much care for the experience.

"What manner of being are you to be flying the cursed craft of the dead god?" was the immediately asked question.

"I'm a man," Ranma stressed. "I stole this glider from under the noses of delusional creatures who believe themselves gods simply because of their longevity and superior technology. I mean you no harm, and will shortly be on my way."

"Men!" the man shrieked in authority. "Escort this _visitor_ to the Council! They will decide what to do with him."

Though Ranma did not like the idea of going anywhere under armed guard, he did not want to start a war with an entire people after months of virtually complete solitude.

The sprite closed the canopy of the glider, taking them all by surprise, as Ranma had made no move to cause the action to occur. This only confirmed Ranma's earlier theory about him being the only one capable of seeing it.

"Shall we?" Ranma suggested and slowly lowered his hands.

The soldiers recovered from their surprise and followed the order issued by their commander.

Walking out of the landing spot's lights, Ranma was probably the only one able to see clearly where he stepped due to the illumination of the sprite which hovered over his left shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking in the dark, the group emerged into the city. The streets were lit with activity very similar to summer festivals back home; families all wearing their finest yukata and jinbei as they visited stalls, played games, ate food from vendors and had social interaction with each other and other families as they passed.

Ranma, being surrounded by armed soldiers who aimed their weapons at him certainly drew the attention of these peaceful citizens, and some mothers even held their children closer out of fear.

For his part, Ranma was sure his attire also had some sort of effect, given how strange it must seem. And the weapons attached to him certainly couldn't help.

What little architecture Ranma could glimpse behind the stalls in the pale light of overhanging lanterns reminded him of old Japanese buildings or various levels, and with a certain modern feel despite the strong traditional design.

One thing that stood out on their walk, though, was an Arena that looked like a mix between Ancient Romans and Ancient Japanese; lit up with spot lights as an object of pride.

Through the twisting and turning streets Ranma was escorted by at least a dozen soldiers, and suddenly Ranma found they had entered a building. It had happened so fast that he hadn't had time to get a look at the place, so any external design present was not noticed and thus had not given him any impression of what awaited him.

The inside walls were rice paper with artwork of phoenix, fish, dragons, samurai and even one of a pyramid floating in the air with rays of light emitting from all around it as though it was the sun.

Through twists and turns, Ranma was escorted down the corridors and up stairs until he was in a large room, otherwise plain if not for the wall decoration of a grand battle between samurai and Jaffa.

Sitting in one row on the ground along the back were twelve men and women alternately, obviously freshly arrived from the festival if their attire was any indication, and their expressions were grim.

"You are the intruder," stated the middle woman.

"Indeed I intruded, but not with ill intent," agreed Ranma.

"Had you not been detected, would you have announced yourself or would you have infiltrated our city?" the middle man continued, every bit as grim and stoic as the woman who first spoke.

"I would have stayed outside the city if I could," Ranma replied. "Like I said, I've traveled for a long time and wanted to breathe some fresh air and feel the ground under my feet again."

"From where did you travel?" the woman at the end asked. "Our defensive measures picked you up almost directly above us with no prior warning from the border stations."

"From space," admitted Ranma. "I come from a planet named Earth, which I guess is the home of your ancestors and mine, but on a trip to another world I got separated from my group and was unable to return to them. I managed to obtain transport and spent the last weeks in space."

"Do you expect us to believe that?" demanded the man on the other end. "We know that Hoderi has been working on a way to evade our detection for over a hundred years. Hoori may have already succeeded, but never admitted it. Kintarō never bothered with technology beyond weapons. Momotarō is hidden, so no one knows what they're doing, so tell us the truth!"

"I am!" Ranma snapped in return, forgetting diplomacy in a moment of indignation. Why was it that people always seemed to believe lies about him rather than taking him on his word?

"Impossible!"

"Is not!"

"Please!" the first woman interrupted forcefully. "Let us not descend into behaving like children."

"He started it," muttered Ranma childishly.

"Regardless," the woman continued. "What proof do you have to support your outlandish claims?"

"Well, clearly my glider is superior to yours." offered Ranma, returning to a slightly humorous sense of diplomacy. "No, not good enough?"

"No, it could simply be an improved version. Hoori has been working on such a thing for ten years," sneered the man at the end.

"Then how about my clothing; do you wear stuff like this?"

"No, but this is the Science capitol of the world, we prefer pale colors and clothes that do not get caught or disturbs our work," countered the man next to the woman at the end.

"How about my weapons?" suggested Ranma and held up his MP5, to which the soldiers responded by activating their short staff weapons in threat of what would happen if he showed aggression.

"What manner of weapon is that?" the woman next to the man on the end asked curiously.

"Projectile," Ranma answered. "It uses a small explosive charge of powder in a metal container stuffed shut with a bullet made of whatever metal is convenient during the time of production, and a hard impact against the bottom of the container makes the powder explode, thus shooting the bullet out the tube that is the barrel. This thing can fire about twelve shots a second if not more and has an effective range up to a hundred meters, more in the hands of a professional. It can be switched to single shot, which is more accurate."

Ranma's lecture, while completely out of character for his old Nerima self was worthy of a weapon sales-person showcasing his wares and surprised the assembled people into momentary silence.

"Is this the same powder we use in fireworks?" asked the middle woman.

"In a way, only without the stuff that sparkles or glows and with some more stability," assumed Ranma, going from what little he knew of fireworks.

"So your weapon fires, what was it, twelve 'shots' a second?" continued the middle man. "What is their destructive capabilities?"

"That depends on the formation and size of the bullet. A hollow point can look small going into a target, but will blossom and grind the insides into paste if its soft enough. An armor-piercing shot has a small explosive in the nose of the bullet so that one's pretty self-explanatory ..."

"How about a demonstration?" the middle woman suggested. "The mechanics behind the weapon seems simple enough, but plain information pale in comparisons with a demonstration."

"If you've got someplace I can make some noise and do some damage without hurting anyone undeserving, then by all means, I'll give you a show," agreed Ranma. Anything was better than this gathering in this confined space with all these weapons aimed at him.

"You can't be serious?" demanded the girly voice of the soldiers' superior and stormed past some of his subordinates. "This man is an intruder, a possible enemy flying one of the cursed gliders of the gods and you want to give him the opportunity to fire his weapons without consequences? We are well within our rights to imprison him, confiscate everything and test them ourselves!"

"And if this man is telling the truth, then we would have destroyed every chance we have at an alliance with another world just as advanced as we are, if only in a different direction," countered the middle woman. "It has long been theorized that the evil goddess Amaterasu never died, but fled through the portal to the heavens with her demon minions. If this man is indeed from another world and did not arrive through the mythic portal, then there is a chance that the gods will return one day to enslave all our cities once more. It is a risk we cannot take lightly."

"Portal to the heavens?" asked Ranma. "Do you mean the Stargate?"

"Our linguists had the text concerning the mythic device translated into Portal of Heaven," mused the middle man. "But I guess there is a possibility they made some mistakes, after all, the language of the gods is unknown to us."

"There is a reason the device is a myth," argued the commander of the soldier squadron. "It doesn't exist, just like Amaterasu is a grossly exaggerated figure. She was probably just some inventor who paid for some hired goons to do what she wanted, and when she realized that she couldn't win, blew herself up, leaving no trace of her to be found and for legends to take root!"

"_**There is a large device made out of naquadah buried beneath the Arena we passed on the way here,**_" inputted the sprite. "_**Given its shape and the presence of power crystals, it is highly likely that the Stargate is located there.**_"

"If I could find the Stargate, would you believe me then?" offered Ranma quickly, before a discussion of theology, folklore and mythology versus reality could break out.

"Preposterous, the device has been lost for thousands of years," snorted the man on the end of the row.

"And how long has the arena been standing on top of it?" Ranma retorted, followed by gasps of surprise. "Scans of the area revealed a large object buried underneath the arena we passed earlier."

"What?" demanded the commander. "You mean to tell me that buried under the arena, which has been standing for five thousand years, is the portal through which the goddess Amaterasu fled when our ancestors rebelled against her tyranny?"

"Yes?"

"This man is clearly insane," the commanded announced. "There is no reason to destroy the arena in order to investigate his claims!"

"I think you might have a point," mused Ranma. "There's no need to dig it up. In fact, I encourage you to keep it from being used for as long as possible. As long as no one can come through the Stargate, the Goa'uld will assume that this planet isn't a threat and leave you alone."

"What is a 'Goa'uld'?" the woman on the end of the row asked.

"It's a parasitic serpent that burrows into your head and takes control of your body," Ranma explained dismissively. "They like to pretend they're gods, but really only got powerful through technology they managed to scavenge from their unwilling hosts, or so I can only assume based on what I've learned of them."

"Then following your logic, it is likely Amaterasu was one of these creatures?" suggested the man on the other end.

"Makes sense," agreed Ranma. "The ones I heard about followed a different pantheon of gods, but what's to stop them from spreading into others?"

"This sounds grave," mused a man near the end. "If such an enemy were to turn its attention to us, we might not be strong enough to fight back efficiently."

"How large is this portal?" the man in the middle asked unexpectedly.

"Just small enough that the glider won't fit through it with the wings spread out," reported Ranma with authority of someone who knew what they were talking about.

"And where in the arena is the portal supposed to be?"

"A little off the middle. Why?"

"The ground under the center is only composed of dirt and dust, not really connected to the walls or foundation. I see no harm being done to the main structure if we were to unearth the portal," the man mused. "Though if it is as dangerous as you say, then some sort of block through the opening would be in order while we examine it. Just imagine what we could do with technology that advanced; our scientific knowledge could gain a huge leap ahead of the others!"

"You do not seriously lend credit to this tall tale?" exclaimed the commander.

"It has been a month since the last Gathering of Strength, it is almost a year to the next one, that should be ample time to explore the plot of land Saotome-san has pointed out," agreed the middle woman with the last speaker of the council. "If he speaks the truth, then it seems we have the possibility of an alliance on our hands to further our civilization, if he does not, then he will be buried where he claims the portal lies; as a warning to the other cities not to send more spies into our midst to uncover our progress for the next Gathering."

"We will begin excavation in the morning," continued the man next to the middle woman. "Until then, show our guest the hospitality of a comfortable room and a nice meal. Depending on our finds tomorrow, it might be his last ..."

* * *

Author's Notes: From what I have heard of history, in Asia before radio communications came into being it was quite common to have a commander with a high pitched voice leading troops, as a high tone carries better than a low one ...

I am aware of that the jinbei isn't necessarily for public use, but from what I could gather, some men use it as a more masculine substitution for the yukata during summer festivals.

The seemingly random names popping up are names for cities across the super continent, from Japanese folklore ... I know very little of this, so I might have used them incorrectly.

My explanation regarding firearms is possibly faulty or unimaginative.


End file.
